


Hook, Line, and Sinker

by somuchforbaggles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Disfigurement, First Meetings, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mentions of scat in jokey passing, Online Relationship, POV Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somuchforbaggles/pseuds/somuchforbaggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rainy Wednesday afternoon, Dean had stumbled on to MTV after grumbling that he <i>didn't pay a hundred and fifty dollars for nothing to be on</i>, and on that rainy Wednesday afternoon, Dean first had suspicions that 'Cas Milton' was too good to be true.</p><p>Now, weeks later, on a cloudy Thursday, he's standing on his Catfish's porch hoping for serendipity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hook, Line, and Sinker

It was official. Dean Winchester had been Catfished. And he was standing right outside his Catfish’s house.

It was Charlie who found out where he lived, after doing some research on his IP address and his phone number. It was magic, and Dean was glad she was only using her powers for good, like finding the guy who he assumed had been lying to him for two years. No, who _had_ been lying to him for two years. ‘Cas Milton’ was too good to be true, and the only reason Dean hadn’t acted on his suspicions before was because denial was not just a river in Egypt.

He had MTV to thank for finally sailing across that river. Dean had only stumbled onto _Catfish_ because he did not pay a hundred and fifty dollars a month for nothing to be on TV, and everything had clicked. It all made sense.

‘Cas’ only had three, dated pictures on his profile. ‘Cas’ had just seven friends on Facebook. ‘Cas’ couldn’t work a webcam. ‘Cas’ could barely make a phone call, let alone use a smartphone. ‘Cas’ always had an excuse for never being able to meet up.

So Dean had spared him the trouble, and made the drive to Vermont.

He stroked the one picture he had of Cas, the one he got printed especially for his wallet, and hoped that Cas had just gotten fat, or something. Because the guy smiling at the person behind the camera definitely was the Catfish. Charlie had done a fancy reverse image search (who knew that was a thing now?) and come up with nothing but the Cas Milton profile.

Dean used to pretend that he was the person behind the camera whom Cas was smiling at. It was such a genuine smile, one that lit up Cas’s eyes like the messages that lit up Dean’s phone. Both giddied Dean’s head and twirled his stomach, but now both of those things were happening for the wrong reasons.

Still, that hope had led Dean to buy a modest bouquet from a wonderful florist’s called  _The Gas Station_ , and he planned to gift them to his Catfish regardless of what transpired today. After all, he had been romancing the guy online for two years. They’d sent all the stickers with hearts on in the Facebook messages (though Cas was sworn to secrecy about it), mused about their future meeting in wistful voices over the phone, and even indulged in some good ol’ phone sex a few times. Whether or not ‘Cas’ was real, Dean’s feelings were. The least he could do would be to buy the guy flowers after they got off together.

It wasn’t too late to turn back, but Dean didn’t pay all that gas money just to stink out his car with the sweet, floral scent of petals.

He muttered a stern, “ _Nut up, Winchester,_ ” to himself, hid the dumb chrysanthe-whatevers behind his back, and rang the bell.

The door opened, and Dean came face to face with his Catfish – only it wasn’t a Catfish at all, it was Cas. Cas was _real_. And most importantly, he could see why Cas was camera-shy.

One side of Cas’s mouth fell open, and he uttered a quiet, “Dean,” before slamming the door in his face.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said softly. “I bought you flowers. Open the door an’ I’ll give them to you.”

“Put them in the mailbox, and leave,” came Cas’s harsh snap of a reply.

“That’ll ruin them. Come on, open the door.”

“No. You’re not supposed to see me like this.”

Dean leaned against the door and sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There was no answer but for the deep breaths Cas was forcing himself to take.

“Everyone’s got scars, Cas. Some are only skin-deep, some are on the inside...I mean, I’m scarred up on the inside like Hell, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

A bitter laugh reverberated through the wood between them. “Nobody has scars like mine. Children don’t run away from your scars, nor do you receive pitying looks for them. It may not matter to you, but it matters to me, Dean.”

Sensing that Cas wasn’t going to open the door anytime soon, Dean sunk down and sat on the porch. A balding black cat leapt through the cat flap he hadn’t noticed and sniffed Dean’s legs and the flowers curiously.

“Hey, you must be Uriel,” he said by way of greeting. Dean knew exactly two things about Cas’s cat: one, Uriel was pudgy despite only eating on rare occasions, and two, Uriel was the funniest cat Cas had ever met.

Uriel skittered off to find a patch of sun, and looking up at the clouds, Dean wished him luck. Hoping the search for sun would keep the cat busy, Dean stuck his arm through the cat flap and wiggled his fingers. Surprisingly, Cas took a hold of them, and hummed thoughtfully.

“You should have told me you were coming,” he groused. “I don’t like surprises.”

“And you should have told me why you wouldn’t Skype or meet up with me,” Dean quickly pointed out.

“I wasn’t lying about being unable to work a webcam. Once, I tried to watch a youtune, but I got a virus and I had to throw my computer away. Skype sounds like a virus, and I don’t want to buy a new computer again.”

Dean’s hold on Cas’s hand became stronger as he laughed. _A youtune_ _._ Cas was just as unintentionally funny in person as he was over Facebook, and the fact that Dean could thread his fingers through Cas’s as he damn near giggled at something so _Cas_ made being with him even better.

“Oh man,” Dean breathed, “you are so awesome. Really. I kinda just wanna see you smile and kiss you and shit and all that sappy stuff.” Before he finished his sentence, Dean scrunched up every muscle in face as part of a vicious cringe attack. It was one thing saying it online, but in person? It was scary. He’d never even said anything like that over the phone, let alone to anyone else in his life.

Luckily, Cas wiped the lines off Dean’s face by repeating, mock horrified, “And _shit?_ ”

“Yeah, and shit! Didn’t I tell you I was into all that?”

It was Cas’s turn to squeeze Dean’s hand as he laughed. However, Dean was soon left with just the sweat on his nervous palm for company, and before he could protest, he fell into Cas’s home.

Standing and brushing himself off, Dean picked up the bouquet at his feet and thrust them into Cas’s chest.

“I hope you were joking about being into...scat,” Cas said, even his dull eye shining. “I’d like to know where that mouth has been before I kiss it.”

Dean grinned. “Sweetheart, the only scat I’m into is the scat on the jazz stations.”

“Good to know.” A smile tugged at Cas’s discoloured lips before he went to put the flowers in water, and Dean took the moment to peer around the place.

There were only a few pictures strewn around the place, and one confirmed Dean’s inklings. Cas had made allusions to the army in passing before, little shallow hints, but never outright stated that he was a...a decorated Lieutenant Colonel of the US Air Force?

“I was set to be promoted to Colonel, but…” Cas shrugged with stiff shoulders, suddenly at Dean’s side. “I got shot down. Lost my right arm, the sight in my right eye, and was lucky to keep my right leg. Lucky to be alive,” he added, a dark haunt in his eyes.

“I guess you’ll never be all right,” Dean said, engaging his mouth before his brain in _Classic Tactless Dean_ mode.

It was silent for a long, horrifying moment, until Cas buried his face in Dean’s shoulder and laughed the hardest Dean had ever heard anyone laugh. It even surpassed the time when Sam and he were in a pranking war, and Sam caught Dean with his face accidentally superglued his face to the toilet seat. Sam had lifted the seat up and down, up and down, roaring with laughter when it took Dean with it.

“Thank you for being the first the make light of my situation,” Cas said after he caught his breath.

“Thank _you_ , for your service to our country and protecting its skies,” Dean replied with a wink.

Cas shrugged again, and made a modest sound. Dean still couldn’t believe that after two years, they were here, kidding around as easily as they did online. Sure, they’d already had their ups and downs as a couple, but they were finally together in the same room.

The light atmosphere became dense with unspoken words as Dean gazed upon Cas’s face. He wasn’t staring, he was committing it to memory. The silvery sheen to the scars, the shiny pink tissue that enveloped an eyebrow, the pleated skin on Cas’s neck like drawn back curtains. While they weren’t conventionally handsome, they were a part of Cas, so they had no choice but to be.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” came Cas’s quiet voice.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said before, it doesn’t matter to me. I love you for you; ain’t no scars gonna change that.”

“You do?”

“Well I’m not gonna love you for the chick across the street, am I?”

“No, I mean – you love me?”

 _Crap_ _._ Dean had done Mosby’d his first date with Cas. And now, Cas was going to back away slowly, throw him gas money and shoo him back to Kansas, and throw the flowers in the trash. He was going to block Dean from ever contacting him again, and—

“My name is Castiel Novak,” Cas said evenly. “I wanted to forget that, to forget I ever served. And then I accidentally friend requested you, and it took a while to realise that I didn’t need a fake name to help me forget. I thought you should know who you’re in love with, and I – I love you too, is what I am trying to say.”

For the first time that day, Dean felt calm, and for the first time in his life, he finally understood what serendipity was. Serendipity added Dean as a friend. Serendipity was MTV on a rainy Wednesday afternoon. Dean drove here, expecting someone pretending to be the love of his life to open the door, but instead, serendipity opened it.

Reeled in by the love-worm that was Cas’s tongue, he leaned in and kissed his serendipity with tentative lips.

Cas wasn’t a Catfish, but that didn’t mean that Dean wasn’t caught hook, line, and sinker.

**Author's Note:**

> Serendipity - a pleasant surprise or a fortunate happenstance.


End file.
